


Now You See Me

by SnakesOnPlanes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gotham, Gotham (FOX Series), Gotham City - Freeform, Imaginary friend AU, My god love them so, Possible smut, Smut, dc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesOnPlanes/pseuds/SnakesOnPlanes
Summary: You've grown up with an imaginary friend all your life and one night you questioned him about a few things that may have hit a heart string, and that was the last time you saw him. Years later you see him in your doorway, before he disappears again! What happens when you go for a life changing adventure to save him. Will it be the last he sees you, or the last time you see him?





	Now You See Me

"If you can't see the sky, there's too much artificial light..." You mutter as you tap the chewed up end of your pen against your lower lip. Sure, it seemed gross but...it helped you think of lyrics to come up with as your ears perked to the sound of rain falling against your window. The sound was absolutely therapeutic and such a wonderful sight to behold; who wouldn't want to sit at their window, staring at the clouded grey and white sky, as water calmly pours. You sigh heavily and fall over onto your side, snapping your journal shut and sliding it across the carpet, your pen soon following the direction of the book. You groan. 

Maybe a shower would help clear your mind and replace the emptiness with some words to jot down in your journal for the song you were writing. Who knows. Within seconds you're pushing yourself up off of the floor and onto your feet with an exasperated sigh. It was midday already and you also wanted a nap. Gotham kept you awake though, no matter what time of day. You grew up here, having trust issues with every other child that seemed to become reckless and bad news, you created an imaginary friend.

You named him Edward Nygma, what a silly name. And whenever something bad happened, he was always there to make the matter better. Or worse, it constantly varied. He was there for the good times too, and you appreciated those times the most. 

Edward wasn't like some crazy animal or silly being. He seemed.. Normal. He seemed real. Like, he would just appear, and then be gone when you look back. But he wasn't, and the sense of fear and being alert stuck to you. You shoved those feelings aside and filed them with your instincts, yet your gut was arguing otherwise. Other than the fear and dread you felt whenever Nygma appeared, you were also intrigued and curious as to what he would bring to the table today.

Your parents worried about you, checking in on you from time to time when you hadn't responded to their calling for you. They thought something was wrong but no, you were either laying on the floor and staring that the ceiling with a grin, or jumping on your bed shouting absolute nonsense. 

"Cut that noise out, Y/N!" They'd exclaim. 

"I didn't bang, it was Nygma!" you'd cry out, hiding your giggles behind a faux frown. 

"Y/N, what did you do?!"

"Mommy, Edward did it!" 

"Why is there a hole in this wall, young lady?"

"Eddie made me do it, he did! Tell them, Eddie!" You'd squeak out with trembling palms, dropping the hammer. 

"Y/N, stop with these silly riddles they'll rot your brain. Eat your vegetables."

When your parents saw nothing, you saw Edward standing beside them in a fit of laughter, clapping his hands and jumping up and down like some mad scientist. They would always send you to your room crying, they didn't believe you. The wouldn't dare understand your mind. You were merely ten. 

See, Ed was mostly influencing you to do the same thing the other bad kids did. Bad things. Maybe they had an Ed of their own. But he also helped you do good things, helped you become smart as a whistle. You liked those times better.

"Do you play with the other kids? Are you theirs too, and make them do the bad things you make me do?" You ask your imaginary friend one night, a blanket covering your head as you clutch a large flashlight in your tiny hands. Edward just places a hand on your cheek and a finger to his lips, the infamous grin plastered on his face just as his hand touches your skin. 

"You're special. Like nobody else, unlike the other kids, Y/n. Never forget me." He whispers, and just as you open your mouth to ask him what he means, he disappears into thin air, leaving a sticky note in front of you. You frown and pick up the note, carefully reading it. "Rare amongst children and men, those who have it claim time is their friend. What am I?”

Great, a riddle.

You lift your blanket and hop from your bed to your desk, grabbing a piece of tape and pressing the square sheet to the wall. You secure the paper with tape and your parents open the door. Gasping softly you flick the flashlight off and fall into the bed, your back facing them as the close the door slowly.

When morning came You woke up to find the note covered in question marks. You yanked it from the wall and frown. "I still don't know what you mean!" You shout, crossing your arms. 

It's been twelve years since you've last seen or heard from your imaginary friend. And tonight you can't shake off the thought of someone- something watching you. With a shudder, you turn around, stepping to your door, out of instinct. You saw nothing so you proceeded to get some clothes and a clean towel for after your shower. It wasnt until moments later you hear scratching coming from your doorway and so you turn around again. 

Just then you freeze, eyes wide. There, in your doorway, stood Edward, your imaginary friend you created years ago, looking anything but imaginary. He hadn't aged a bit. "Eddie?!" You step forward. He's anxious, facial expression panicky and full of fear. 

He looks as if he's on the brink of tears. You feel your feet pressing against the carpet with every quick and rushed step. He seems happy to see you but it's masked with terror as his fist collides with the air; it's as if he's trapped behind glass, banging on it in hopes of it shattering. He's mouthing something you can't quite make out. And almost instantly, he disappears, and you relish the evanescent moment before noticing the note that he left on the floor at your feet, simply saying,

"Get me out of here." in large, scrawled letters.


End file.
